


First Impressions

by kissmeimirish (spockoid31)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: First Crush, First Meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockoid31/pseuds/kissmeimirish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seamus meets Dean. Fluff, first crush, etc</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

Title: First Impressions  
Author: kissmeimirish  
Pairing: None, yet. Seamuss mind, mostly involving Dean.  
Rating: Erm- G? PG? (He says "bloody" twice. That's it.)  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Seamus or anyone else.  
Notes: Unrelated to any other story of mine- so far....

\- - - - - - - -

We shuffle into the Great Hall, and I look up. Wow. The stories me mam told me about the ceiling were true. There they were, a million lit candles floating under the night sky.  
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in *Hogwarts, A History*," said the girl with a mass of brown hair.  
Oh, was that it? I read that book too, about five years ago, but I didn't remember-  
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty-"  
The old hat on the stool is *singing.*  
I jump. Mam hadn't mentioned *this.* The boy behind me giggles. He's thin and tall with chocolate-brown skin. I shoot him a nervous smile and try to ignore my heart, which has just sped up to about a thousand beats per second.

The old woman- McGonnagal? Was that her name?- with the tight hair is calling our names, and we each have to sit on the stool, in front of the whole bloody school, and she puts the hat on our heads. It shouts out whatever House that kid belongs to, and they go over to their new table and try to disappear.  
"Finnigan, Seamus!"  
God, please don't let me heave, don't let me heave-  
I sit there for a whole bloody minute before it screams, "GRYFFINDOR!"  
The table closest to the wall, under the red-and-gold banner, erupts in cheers and whistles. I stumble off the platform and sink onto the bench, next to twins with bright red hair. They pat me on the back so hard I almost fall under the table.  
A few people later, the boy who had laughed slides in next to me. Dean Thomas. He smiles, a bright, happy smile, and I grin back, feeling, for some reason, relieved.

Apparently, we have a famous person in our house now. I think I heard Mam say something about him once or twice, when I was really small- Harry Potter. He's got messy black hair and emerald eyes, and doesn't say much.  
Dean looks really lost and kinda nervous. I want to say something, but one of the twins asks about my family.  
"I'm half-n-half. Me da's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."  
They laugh.  
As the boy who kept losing his toad answers, I reach over and touch Dean's arm. Now it's his turn to jump.  
"Oh- hi," he says. He has a voice like his skin: rich, rolling, smooth.  
"Hi."  
"I'm Dean."  
"Seamus."  
"Hi, Seamus."  
"You- er, from a wizard family?"  
He shakes his head. "Muggle-born. Do I look that out-of-place?"  
"Naw, just wondering."  
We return to our mashed potatoes. Or, rather, *Dean* returns. I'm too busy studying his profile, his short black curls, the way his eyelashes flutter...  
Hmm. This is a new feeling. It's like cuddling a new kitten while a Chocolate Frog melts in your mouth and your Mam is holding you close and singing a lullaby. I like it.  
It feels warm, close.

We've been sorted into groups of five to be put in a dorm. It's at the top of one of the towers. Dean, Harry Potter and his friend Ron Weasley (the Twins' little brother), and Neville Longbottom, the boy with the toad. Dean's four-poster is right next to mine. When I realize this, my stomach tingles like I've just missed a step going down the stairs. Good, but odd.  
I spend the night unpacking and talking with Dean. We stay up late, sharing the sweets we got on the train and looking at our photos. He's fascinated with mine, which move, and I'm fascinated with his, which don't.  
He's just as nice as he looks, with his dark eyes and easy laugh. I hope, *really* hope, that we will be friends.

\- - - - - - -

What do *you* think?


End file.
